GaMM After the Credits Season One
by gaylesam
Summary: Yahoo GaMM group is challenging writers, after we review each episode in sequence to envision what 'might' have happened after the credits ATC stopped rolling. With "Love is a Toothache" I've completed one ATC for each episode, so season one is ready for reading!
1. Pilot Episode

'Heaven help me,' he thought standing there on the deck outside the Master Cabin, 'who would have imagined? Over a hundred years and I find myself an incurable romantic at heart." Gazing at the lovely blonde woman there, he paused to make sure she was breathing steadily, sound asleep.

Even though it was entirely unnecessary, he turned the latch on the doors, and stepped inside the cabin. Walking slowly, he looked down at Carolyn Muir. A day ago, he had never even known she existed, and now a day later it was clear with her arrival, his world would never be the same.

Gently speaking aloud, he began sharing words he knew he would never be able to say to her in this world. "I never once allowed a woman onboard my ship, but if I had known you a hundred years ago, I would have carried you out to sea and shown you how beautiful the world can be. I'd have met my match in you." He paused, and let himself feel the frustration, the sense of injustice that would not be restrained.

"Lord knows I waited for you, and hunted for you, how was I to know you hadn't even been born yet?"

Stopping again, he saw a slight smile appear on her lovely, sleeping face, and realized she was, on some level, listening and clearly appreciating his words. "No you won't remember any of this when you wake up Madam," he said clearing the memory from her mind. "You shan't have that advantage over me."

Taking a long sigh, he watched as her smile faded into a faint frown, and knowing he had no other choice, accepted all that fate had handed him this day, "How sad that you were not born in my time, nor I in yours."

He faded from view, and a breeze pushed the door open further, the noise suddenly waking the young woman. Opening her eyes, she slid off the bed, and closed the door, turning the lock gently, "Old houses like you have a way of getting the advantage – hope I'm more than a match for you." Slipping back into bed, she looked confused and squinted her eyes as she tried to recall something, "I've heard those words before, I'm sure of it, but where?" Curling up under the covers she murmured, "can't recall . . . hmmm, how sad. Maybe next time?"

Drifting off, she had a sudden flash, almost a memory of the Captain standing before her, and the sound of his voice, but she couldn't quite hear the words. "Blast," she murmured, punching her pillow and settling down to sleep.


	2. Haunted Honeymoon

"Let's go Gladys!" Harvey said with barely veiled fear, as he slammed the car door and sped away. "What's up with him now?" Martha asked aloud. "Nothing," Jonathan said, heading down the steps toward some toys, "Just the Captain wanting to say goodbye too I guess, that's why he asked me for some of the rice."

"Jonathan!" Carolyn warned, looking about but not seeing their ghost. "What did I tell you about scaring your sister?" "Aw, it's nothing," Candy answered, joining him on the lawn, "he just has too much fun making all this stuff up. Don't worry Mom."

Carolyn turned toward Martha and gave her a noncommittal shrug, "It was a spectacular breakfast Martha. Think I'll take a walk down on the beach before I settle back down to work." "Well change your shoes first," Martha chided, "you'll ruin those heels in the sand otherwise."

Nodding, Carolyn made her way upstairs, "Sometimes I wonder if she isn't the mother, and we're all her children," she murmured to herself. "I'd have said grandmother actually," the Captain grinned meeting her at the landing, "or perhaps great-grandmother if we're talking about the children."

"Nice of you to show yourself," Carolyn grumbled at him, "you couldn't resist scaring that nice young couple one last time, could you!"

"Madam!" he argued, "Really, you couldn't be more wrong – it would have been unconscionable to let them go off without protection." Understanding by her raised eyebrow she really didn't understand, he pointed the way into the master cabin and pulled out her chair. Sitting quietly, she looked toward him with deep curiosity.

He looked at her thoughtfully, "Surely when you were married, Madam, you were also showered with rice?" Looking down, Carolyn let a rather long silence build before responding. "Actually no, that wasn't any part of my marriage, and if you don't mind, I'd prefer to not go into that right now." Confused, the Captain nodded, but noting it as another mystery he'd try to solve going forward. "In any event," he smiled, charitably changing the topic, "Throwing things at a newly married couple is a very old tradition that dates back to ancient Rome or Egypt or even further. The custom was intended to give all newlyweds good luck, and most of the items thrown at the couple are meant to bring fertility and abundance. But in fact, as I know now from my current perspective, this action protects the couple by feeding the uninvited evil spirits who always attended such ceremonies. Essentially, the practice truly wards off evil, as well-fed evil spirits bring no harm to the blissful couple. All in all a far better option than the old Irish tradition that had a newly married couple pelted with pots and pans in honor of their new domestic life. "

"Ouch," Carolyn smiled, "I guess I should be happy you didn't opt to give them an ounce of Irish protection, shouldn't I?"

"Indeed," the Captain smiled in return, "So I trust my actions, my intentions now meet with your approval?" "They do Captain," she offered, slipping on flats for her walk on the beach. "Care to join me?" she asked, pausing by the door. "I'd be delighted Madam," he smiled and the two headed down the stairs toward the shore.


	3. Treasure Hunt

Smiling up at him, she shrugged, "Well that's a woman for you. Guess you can't change us." Her eyes never left his face, and finally in partial defeat, or perhaps acceptance of the emotions beginning to surface between them he smiled back in return.

"Don't know that I want to," be paused watching for her grin, "after all, you're still the best opposite sex available."

"Well, I don't know about that," she paused with a beguiling glance, "who's to say WE are the opposite sex, maybe that honor belongs to you, eh?"

"Madam," he offered with an egotistical harrumph, "clearly God above created man FIRST, thus making you the alternative, the opposite if you will, don't you agree?" "Hardly," she grinned, "as a creative writer, I can assure you the first effort is rarely your best; it's with reflection, consideration that you produce your final, your perfect work."

Circling her, he silently reflected upon her words, "There you have me Madam," he said gently, letting his gaze drop from her face, down to her shoes and slowly back up again, "who am I to argue with what clearly is perfection indeed."

Carolyn had expected to continue the jesting exchange between them, but she was unprepared for this departure into what was clearly new territory. "I, uh, then. . ." she paused turning away from him, unable to collect her thoughts while she was fighting down the deep blush coloring her cheeks.

Taking pity on her, he took a careful step back, "but perhaps we do not need to claim any particular position, any specific role here – yet that is. Do you agree?" Turning back, she looked quietly at him, with new and obvious interest, "I do Captain," she spoke quietly, "I suspect time will give us the chance to understand what may be, what could be. . ." Nodding her head, she stepped quickly out of the room, leaving him alone, feeling as if he had both gained some insight of her, but gained in confusion as well. "We'll try again another day," he murmured before disappearing to the comfortable quiet of the widows walk, and some much needed contemplation.


	4. The Ghost Hunter

"No dessert for two weeks!" he ordered, wagging his finger at her.

Totally unrepentant about her lie to the ghost hunter's superiors, she brightly turned and stuck out her tongue.

"Truly Captain, you are always reminding me that you are purely an illusion – so who can prove that you are there at all? Seeing, as believing is in the eye of the beholder, I have always felt. And therefore, even though I might not choose to have dessert, I feel entirely entitled to it, if it is what I desire."

Grinning and returning to her desk, and sitting with purpose, she began to roll a new piece of paper into the typewriter.

Standing behind her, watching her with an amused smile, "And, M'dear, do you always get what you desire?"

Turning to look up at him over her shoulder, the room went quite still as they watched each other, silent messages spinning between the two.

With a wistful look, she returned to face the typewriter again, "No Captain, no matter how much I desire some things, or someone," she said more softly, almost to herself, "it isn't always possible." "I think, M'dear that's true for both of us," he said disappearing behind her. With a muffled, "Blast!" she began typing, and tried, yet again to push her feelings for him out of her mind, even if they insisted on remaining in her heart.


	5. Hero Today, Gone Tomorrow

With the entire Schooner Bay community now agreeing with him that Horatio Figg was both a fraud and coward, Captain Gregg was in the best mood she had ever seen. Delighted with his good spirits, and frankly enjoying being the center of his attention, she had readily accepted his invitation to join him in the parlor. The children were tucked into bed, Martha had retired early, and after having slipped on one of her favorite dressing gowns, she curled up on the couch, mesmerized as he launched into just one of the tales that warranted (or so he claimed) his right to be Schooner Bay's favorite son, worthy of their attention and admiration.

Watching him pace, arms waving as his tale reached the perilous climax; she smiled to herself as he threw himself into the retelling of the adventure. And at the knock on the parlor door, she couldn't help thinking, as his face crumbled in disappointment at the interruption, that he had been a long time without an audience.

Seeing Jonathan standing at the door, she knelt down, looking briefly back at the Captain. Smiling, she let herself think how nice it was to have the two of them in her world. She would have been a bit disturbed, if she let that thought continue down the inevitable path, so it was probably a moment of grace when Jonathan chirped, "You know what would be really neat Mom?" "What?" she said patiently. With greater excitement, he continued, "If Schooner Bay put up a statue to a real hero like Captain Gregg!" Proudly, she gave him a kiss on the top of his head, "Goodnight Jonathan." "Goodnight," he grinned as he turned and headed back to bed.

Standing, she expected the Captain to grumble at the interruption, but clearly, the boy's praise had made its mark. "That's a fine lad you've raised there Mrs. Muir," the Captain said warmly. "Bright and loveable, that's a fine lad."

"I always thought so," she grinned, curling up on the same spot of the couch. "But as you were saying?" Tilting her head, she was surprised to see him begin to pace in front of the fire. "Lost your place in the story?" she asked quietly. "No, not at all," he said so quietly, she had to concentrate to hear him. "Something wrong?" "Perhaps not wrong, but," he paused, sitting beside her, "more something I find I regret somewhat."

Knowing, even after their short acquaintance, that his offering of any kind of regret, or heavens perhaps an apology would be a rare thing, she wisely decided to just look and silently wait for him to continue.

Standing suddenly and resuming his pacing, he finally turned and looked carefully at her. "My thought, my impression. . ." he paused again, clearly searching for the appropriate words. "Well, it seems to me that I may have put you in somewhat of an awkward situation regarding the historical society and even that harridan Mrs. Grover." "Possibly," she smiled down to herself, "but go on."

Clearing his throat, he turned facing the fire, "I realize you were seeking a place in the local community, and I have made that somewhat difficult for you." He stood, hand on mantle, and drumming his fingers, he finally continued, "Mind you, not a worthwhile one in the bunch," he murmured, finally turning back toward her. "I really couldn't say," she said in what she hoped was a non-committal tone, "all I can imagine, is that these people, who make up the community in which I hope to spend my days, are now left thinking either I'm an lunatic kleptomaniac, or that I'm under the spell of the ghost of Gull Cottage."

With a bemused smile, and a distinctly gentle look in his eyes, he finally settled down beside her, "Good to know you like it well enough to stay." Looking away, and re-tying the bow at her throat, she blushed a bit. "I'm glad you approve," she glanced quickly at him. "Yet, you are right, still tricky to recover from their 'little suspicions' – any suggestions?" Flashing an unashamed grin, he shrugged, "Well, you returned the 'missing' objects, so can't really say thievery is involved, can we?" "No, no I suppose not," she chuckled. "And as for being under the spell of the local ghost?" he asked thoughtfully. "Ah," she said gently, "that would be a different tale. Let's leave that for another day, shall we?" "Of course," he said, with a wistful look and standing he began his pacing again, "now where was I?"


	6. Vanessa

"Good night, Mrs. Muir," he said smoothly as she crumbled the notice from the General Store in her hand. "Frustrating!" she muttered underneath her breath, as she went slowly up the stairs, "Thinks he's funny does he? Not hardly!"

After checking in on the children, she closed their door and stood in the hallway, still seething. "I must be out of my mind. This isn't real, HE isn't real, and I know that, I do!" Shaking her head, she opened the door, and stepped into the master cabin. To her astonishment, he was standing, waiting for her by the fireplace. His back to her, he was aware of her presence as he began to speak. "My apologies, M'dear for my humor just now," she heard behind her, "I had merely hoped to change the tenor of the day. There had been more than a usual degree of seriousness today and I thought a small shift would be appreciated, but I see I was mistaken." He finished, looking at her with an eyebrow raised in a curious expression.

Looking at him quietly, she walked behind him and sat on the cushioned seat by the fireplace. He sat down beside her, and they perched uneasily there, feeling awkward in the silence. "It wasn't so much the humor," she finally offered, looking at the fireplace, "but more that it felt like the whole episode with Vanessa had never happened. And I felt, I assumed that you, that we," her voice faltered, as she realized she could not find a way to say what she wanted to tell him. "Well, it's just . . . confusing," she said embarrassed by her inability to speak.

Tugging his ear, and grinning sheepishly, he looked at her thoughtfully, "Confusing eh? I could not think of a more appropriate word. I too found myself a bit at sea, and unable to find my bearings today. So it seems we are in this together, am I correct?"

"Together Captain, yes I believe we are," she said quietly. Standing suddenly, he cleared his throat, "Well, then," he said with an intimate tone to his voice, "to our shared adventure on the seas of confusion Mrs. Muir." She looked up at him, as he slowly disappeared, never taking his eyes from her face.


	7. The Real James Gatley

"I'm sorry to laugh so long Captain, but you've made me so happy." "Happy, Madam?" "Yes, it was a true and wonderful gift," she smiled walking down the stairs to his side. She quietly looked up into his eyes, and the room went still, "I had observed that you are a bit of a martinet, someone who seems unwilling to compromise or have compassion for others who are less. . . shall we say well endowed?" He seemed to blush, looking down, then away and back up to her face. "Really Madam, I do not think. . ." Realizing in the midst of his confusion what he took as her meaning, she did a similar look away until she gathered her own composure.

"CAPTAIN! Certainly, not that I would be able to make any real or even estimated comparisons, I'm a respectable woman after all . . . what I MEANT was endowed as in abilities. . ." His lascivious grin told her she still had mis-spoken.

"CAPTAIN! Fine let's go with less intelligence, understanding and generous nature, shall we."

"We shall, Mrs. Muir." "Thank you Captain," she grinned as she walked into the parlor. "And you're right about the rest of course too," he called after her. "CAPTAIN!" she responded and with matching grins, they moved on to safer topics.


	8. Uncle Arnold the Magnificent

As he heard the thumping of suitcases on the stairs and the honking from the cab below, the Captain knew that Uncle Alfred was finally on heading back onto the road of a traveling salesman. He invisibly appeared on the master bedroom balcony, smiling as the family surrounded their departing relative. He congratulated himself on having been of service to Mrs. Muir in a moment of need. It was with some satisfaction he recalled the various steps, whether it was assisting Jonathan in understanding his duty, coming to the lady's rescue when her uncle was floundering in the midst of badly performed magic or merely being on hand when needed. He was deeply pleased to have been able to fulfill the needs of his 'family'. Mind you, he was not ready to call them that aloud, but to himself, he had to admit, they were indeed the closest thing to family he had ever had in this world.

Leaning forward, he grimaced at the last line between the cab driver and Uncle Arnold. "Sorry old pal, I'd hate to leave with egg on _**your**_ face." Hugs and kisses completed, the cab door closed and the family shouted their farewells. "Bye!" " Bye!" "Goodbye Uncle Arnold!"

Wishing for a moment that he might be part of that throng, the Captain waved his own farewell, "Goodbye Uncle Arnold and good luck."

As the cab pulled away, Carolyn turned and saw the Captain on the balcony waving his own goodbye. The rest of the family still stood watching the cab until it was out of sight. Without thinking, she turned exactly where her heart prompted her to look. Standing, facing the balcony, facing him, she sighed and rested her hand upon her chest. To her surprise, the Captain paused and with the same mesmerized look, rested his hands on the railing, and leaned over, watching her carefully.

Wordlessly, the two stood, separated by space, air, time and physical reality. Their looks expressed many things, happiness, appreciation, respect, admiration, and if they would admit to such a thing, love and more than a bit of lust as well. But this day, they let the silence carry their emotions across the space separating them, and this day, despite the silence, they were brought closer together than they had ever been before.


	9. WAY off Broadway

"Captain, you old cupcake!" "I beg your pardon Madam?"

"Surely you don't think I believe that this is what you really had in mind, did you? A script? If anything, I thought you'd be auditioning as an actor. I've heard you practicing when you didn't think anyone was around – and I must say I'm impressed."

"Heard, me, truly Madam, I cannot imagine what you are referring to."

"I think it was shortly after we hooked up the stereo and unpacked the records, even after I knew I put it away, I kept finding the cast album of "My Fair Lady" on the turntable. I must say, you have a wonderful singing voice. It is a wonderful musical, don't you agree?"

Looking somewhat stricken, he cleared his throat as he tried to find the right response. "I have always appreciated fine music, Madam, although I must admit I find that Rex Harrison something less than a tuneful performer." "I believe that was intentional," she smiled, "he was meant to be someone who wasn't comfortable with emotion, in speaking or in song. That makes his surprise when he recognizes his feelings for Eliza all the more poignant."

"I see, you mean that just because he doesn't readily show or speak about his feelings, we are meant to understand them all the same?"

"Exactly." She tilted her head, looking at him, and seeing precisely what she hoped to see, she blushed and looked away for a moment. "Just as Eliza, who never expected, never believed she'd be cared for in such an important way, is equally confused about what it means to her, to her future. She knows she won't have a usual future with him, but she cares too much about him to have anyone else, to want anyone else. . . I don't think I understood all that, until recently that is."

Stepping closer and looking deeply into her eyes, he smiled. "M'dear, sometimes, I think, knowing, believing and understanding is more important than being, at least I assume that is correct. Do you agree?" he added with a soft note to his voice. "Captain, sometimes when you speak to me at moments like this, I feel as if I were Eliza." "And I, M'dear, would wish to be the Professor, and much, much more."


	10. The Monkey Puzzle Tree

In the midst of her latest story, Carolyn had tried unsuccessfully to ignore the sounds of Claymore and the Captain. . . "Oh let's call it reuniting, shall we?" she murmured aloud at her desk. Even though she found her legal landlord a nice enough fellow, she had to admit to preferring the actual master of Gull Cottage if anyone asked. Smiling to herself, she was glad there was no one to actually ask her at all, especially since their long discussion the previous evening, after the new Monkey Puzzle tree was safely in the ground.

She paused, letting herself recall the warm words and feelings that surrounded them last night, when she noticed a lovely bouquet of flowers floating toward her. "Why thank you!" she called out to the seemingly empty air.

As she entirely expected, the Captain appeared there beside her, "Honesty compels me," he offered with an excited grin, "to confess that the flowers are not from me, but from that quivering mass of jelly."

She paused to look up at him, with what she hoped was a 'come hither' look, but made sure her voice was matter of fact. "Claymore. Well I better go thank him." She paused, knowing he'd finish the rest of his announcement in all good time.

"I'm afraid you'll have to hurry," he smirked, "He's about a mile and a half down the road by now." Standing, she joined him at the binnacle, and put her eye to the telescope there. "Poor Claymore," she said quietly, "he's running as if he's" . . . and to her delight, the Captain joined her in saying, "just seen a ghost."

Laughing together, she realized even in the early days of her marriage, she and her husband had never shared such a mutually lighthearted moment. Taking another peek into the telescope, she saw Claymore paused by the side of the road. "He's looking rather green," she said somewhat worried, "don't you think you should go and check on him?"

"That squidly lout?" the Captain grumbled. Noticing her concern, he paused for a moment, "do you truly wish me to check on him?" Looking slowly up into his amazingly blue eyes, she gave him a subtle nod. Grumbling, he paused, noticing yet again, how truly vibrant and green her eyes were in the morning sunlight. "If you wish it Madam, but mind you for no other reason!"

As he disappeared, she sighed softly for just a moment. "If only. . ." she murmured aloud, as she returned to her work. "If only . . ."


	11. Captain Gregg's Whiz Bang

Something had told her it would be 'Feminine View' even before the phone began to ring. In fact, the Captain's eyes met her with a "of course it is" expression as she said "Hello Mr. Gordon", and that sense of oneness became even a bit more disconcerting as he picked up his cigar and perched on the edge of her desk avidly listening.

Even though they had agreed earlier (she firmly, he reluctantly) that there would be no more adventures for Captain Webster, she watched him carefully, fully expecting him to take the phone and identify himself as the phantom writer and offer to complete the series on his own.

It was difficult to focus on the conversation with the Captain quite so close. Over the writing of the article, she noticed his increasing comfort (interest?) in being near to her. Leaning over her, his hand a mere whisper from her own, she began to wonder (fantasize?) that with the slightest adjustment they might even touch.

Shaking that image from her head, she finally delivered the finishing touch that her 'ghost writer' sadly had, in fact died. His sly wink then would have made her laugh, if it hadn't caused another round of most disturbing tingles between her thighs. Fighting the urge to bite her lip, she carefully put the phone on the receiver, aware his eyes were still fixed on her face.

The silence between them held for a beat and a half too long, and her blushing cheek, and his sudden need to tug at his ear told each of them they had inched closer again to their truth, but clearing his throat, the Captain quickly stood and walked over to the binnacle. Looking out the telescope, he seemed to take a deep breath, "So. He was still impressed with the story about the Captain?"

Watching him there, she turned away smiling, "And the girl."

"Oh, that's doubtful," he said in a rather matter-of-fact voice as he finally turned to look back at her.

Spinning his direction, her arched eyebrow was enough to make him continue quickly before another spat could begin. Moving to lean against the desk, quite close to her, he continued. "You mistake me, my dear. Not the girl. It's the woman. It takes a real, live woman to holds a man's interest, to capture the heart of a worldly sea captain. A mere girl, no matter how comely would find it impossible."

Of all the hundreds of things she might say in response, dozens that she considered saying, Carolyn contented herself with a long look and a breathless, knowing, "Ah. . ." Perhaps one day there would be more words, more . . . something, but today the shared looks and smiles were enough for the two of them. At least for today.


	12. Madeira, My Dear?

"M'dear, a bit more?" he said smiling, holding the decanter in his hand. "Thank you," she said softly, holding out her crystal glass toward him. "I'm so very pleased you were able to return following the 'small domestic crisis.' At least once a week we both deserve more than a lovely, leisurely minute, don't you agree?"

"I do. Once the kitchen was ship shape, I realized next Tuesday seemed too far away. It's silly, but I felt a week was too long to wait." She was going to continue, but the warmth of his smile and expression rather took her breath away. Losing herself in the moment, she found herself unable to look away. Battling with her romantic instincts, she paused and was surprised to hear herself saying, "So tell me Captain, was this part of how you charmed women in your day? A lovely handwritten invitation, the promise of quiet time and an excellent drink as well?" she asked, holding her sparking glass aloft.

"You mean are you the first or . . .?" he said, never taking his eyes away from her face. "Well, uh, no, I mean I don't, I of course didn't think . . . never mind." Her mind spinning a thousand different directions, she looked down, away, and then back toward him. His eyes never wavered, the sparkle of humor obvious in his expression. Somehow, she found the security, the courage to say what she truly needed to ask, "Yes. Exactly that. I know it's silly and not truly my business, but yes. Am I?"

Leaning closer to her than ever before, she saw his gaze soften. "M'dear, in over 140 years, I've traveled the world, indeed met many fetching women, drank under some awful, and some spectacular settings, but only now, with you have I ever issued such an invitation. No invitation that I have ever extended was accepted with so much pleasure. You have my entire assurance this moment is indeed unique. As is my companion." With that he stopped, head tilted, waiting for her reaction.

He watched with pleasure as her face colored, her eyes grew moist and a beguiling smile formed on her lips. "MOM! The kitchen sink is flooding! Help!" they heard from the bottom of the stairs. He grinned as he reached for her glass, "Yes, I know another small domestic crisis. Can't be helped." "Yet, we should finish this conversation I think?" she offered, "Next Tuesday perhaps?" With that, she flew out the attic door, and he heard her footsteps disappear down the stairs. "When ever you are ready Mrs. Muir, no matter how many Tuesdays it takes," he said quietly before disappearing himself.


	13. Love is a Toothache

Standing to wave good-bye to Claymore, Carolyn stood in the front yard, content that her 'meddling' as the Captain called it had paid off. Martha was her usual chipper self, her landlord was behaving far more honorably and honestly than usual and as for herself, she was pleased, but honestly a bit unsettled about everything that had happened now that the Dentist/Momma's Boy adventure was at an end.

It wasn't that she was regretting anything, but as she walked around the front yard in the cool night air, she stopped in front of the Monkey Puzzle tree. "So he wishes he was mortal," she said aloud to the growing tree, "you think that means what I hope it means? Not that it'll do either of us any good, but I would like to believe his interest in being mortal is about more than wishing he could enjoy a bowl of goulash with me."

Feeling a sudden chill, Carolyn looked up at the balcony, unable to shake the impression she had been watched from there while she walked the yard. At that same moment, she noticed the lights go on in the attic. 'So he's waiting for me,' she grinned to herself, 'perhaps it's not too late for a small glass of Madeira?'

Restraining herself from dashing up the stairs, she quietly tiptoed to the attic door and after a gentle tap, she peered inside. "Captain? Captain? I just wanted to let you know – I think everything is back on an even keel." Not seeing him, she walked into the room and looked curiously at two glasses of Madeira and to her surprise a bowl of potato chips. Appearing behind her, he said gently, "When our guests had departed you sampled that one chip and the expression on your face was memorable. I was curious if it was the food that entranced you or perhaps it was something else?"

Picking up a chip, she took a definite bite, and with a glint in her eye, she turned to face him and watched his face carefully as she swallowed. "It's true, I do have, shall we say, a passionate appreciation for potato chips. I have to monitor it carefully; it's something I cannot let myself indulge in too much. It wouldn't do to get carried away . . . would it?"

Holding out a glass to her, he let his gaze linger on her lips, as she licked a trace of salt away. Taking the small crystal glass from him, she looked down, unable to keep a blush from coloring her cheek. Gesturing to the settee, he joined her as she settled beside him. "M'dear, the line that separates appreciation from obsession is unique to each of us. But I promise to not let either of us become too indulgent, do you trust me?"

Recognizing all that he intended to say, she merely held up her glass and with eyes shining, she said softly, "A toast to appreciation," "And to trust," he offered, touching his glass to hers "and all it brings."


	14. Mister Perfect

She was oddly frustrated that while her subtle disrobing did seem to intrigue him, it did not get the response she hoped for at all. Surely, he must have noticed that both the pearls and the chain holding the locket both could have easily been slipped over her head. Her careful, and deliberate unfastening of each, one at a time, letting them slip over her fingers should have been enough of a sign that at last she was ready, willing and hopeful that they could move beyond the mannered exchanges that marked their first few weeks together in Gull Cottage. Heavens, what else could there be left to do? She would have thought the shared glass of champagne, the silent looks between them should have opened that particular door, but not a single important word had been spoken then. True she had somewhat engineered all of this when she knew Blair was coming to continue his never ending and never serious pursuit for her hand. Leaving the Captain in the dark about the real nature of her relationship with Blair ('or lack of it' she smirked to herself) had been what he would call a 'womanly ploy' and so it was. While it had worked in some manner, it had not brought them entirely to the happy ending she had hoped when she had begun.

Yes, they had rather strong words between them about Blair, but it had been her plan all along that he'd scuttle her faux romance and at last be honest with her about his own feelings. Smiling she recalled a few times when she had also (with Richard as a willing co-conspirator) made Blair look more than a bit foolish, and she had to admit, it wasn't hard for him to look that way. Yet that was in good fun, between friends, and she knew with certainty that the Captain's intentions and actions regarding Blair were anything but humorous.

Fully expecting him to speak what she knew, or hoped existed in his heart, it took her by surprise when he suddenly departed with the promise in future to appear only when called. Her feminine instincts told her that the message she delivered, had been completely understood just as she had intended. She paused in front of the mirror wondering if he was still observing her invisibly. 'Now that would be interesting,' she smiled to herself as she reached around to unfasten the zipper to her dress. How far would she go? How far SHOULD she go in this game? How much did he finally guess about her dangling Blair in front of him as an unlikely rival? A knowing look crossed her face as she realized to her surprise that it was indeed a game, and one they both seemed dedicated to playing, at least for a bit longer. 'Well, if it's to be a game,' she thought, 'I'm not going to make it that easy for him,' and whisked her nightgown into the closet with her.


	15. Dear Delusion

"A very dear delusion," he said gently, with that special warmth in his expression and distinct message in his gaze as they paused in the yard.

"So Captain, now that we agree again that you are quite real, and quite yourself, might I ask a question?" "Of course Mrs. Muir, how may I be of assistance?" "This morning, you said you remembered what goes on in a man's mind when a beautiful woman smiles at him, what DOES go on?" she said with a beguiling smile and a distinct glint in her eye.

"Don't we have something else to discuss?" he tried again, attempting to dodge the question. 'Actually, no we do not, not now," she said, her eyes staying trained on his face. "Well, if you insist Madam," he said, looking steadily into her eyes. "It fully and completely depends upon the woman, and the nature of her smile. If, for instance," he paused, pointing a finger at her with a wry grin, "the woman was smiling a smile like yours, the man would be thinking he was very fortunate indeed. And if circumstances were different, the rest of the thoughts could only be shared in a very private, comfortable setting. Does that answer your question M'dear?"

Without blinking, and with a fair amount of satisfaction, he watched her blush, but was exceedingly satisfied that she never once let hey eyes drop. "Well Captain," she said at last, "it answers THAT question. I may have others in future, if you don't mind?"

"I am now and always at your service Mrs. Muir," he said losing himself into her green eyes and the thoughts of what might be someday in their future together.


	16. Dog Gone

_(Author note: I find as I work on the new Before The Credits (BTC) series for GaMM, it means I need to edit the ATC's to reflect the overall storyline I'm creating for an episode. So no, you aren't imagining things if you think "that wasn't here the last time I read this ATC". Thought you'd want to know. When in doubt, I'd recommend you read them BTC, MMDrabble and then ATC for any given episode if you want to keep it up to date. GSC)_

"Well, almost all," she said smiling as the children raced outside to play with their newly returned dog. "Indeed Madam," he said reappearing in front of his portrait, "surely you know how much I am overjoyed at the return of the four legged member of your family?"

"I do know Captain," she said looking out the window where her children and dog were playing in the yard. "But I am most interested in having you continue your story, about how deep feelings are hidden behind a wall of quarreling. Surely you were speaking about more than just Scruffy and Sheila?"

"Well," he paused, tugging at his ear, "even though I find the shrill barking a nuisance, I am quite aware that when a dog is barking and wagging his tail, he is happy and wanting to show how much he would like to play, rather than showing animosity toward someone. Surely you know that, don't you?"

"I do indeed," she said settling down on the sofa by the fireplace, "but I was speaking more about people, rather than dogs. At least I thought you had more than one meaning in the tale you were sharing with Jonathan this morning." Settling beside her, he smiled, "You mean, I suppose Madam, that a declaration of love, of deep emotion might be communicated in ways besides actual words? If that is your meaning, then I have to admit, this house might indeed be full of such declarations, but that is for you to say, M'dear."

Blushing, she stood and moved to the window, pulling the curtain back into place, she paused watching the children and dog at play, "Ah Captain, sometimes words are the least useful tool to use when you truly want to communicate something of importance, don't you think?" With that she turned, and with a deep, soft gaze, hoped with that alone, she might share her thoughts and feelings with him.

Stepping closer, he raised his hand, as if to touch her cheek, and letting his fingers stop a fraction of a space away, he sighed looking into her eyes, "at least, here, today, in this home, I think words will have to wait, at least for now."

And wordlessly, they smiled and turned to watch the children and dog at play. Scruffy paused, looking toward his lady and the bearded one. 'Still? They are just going to stand there and only look at one another?' he thought. 'I was sure they'd learn. I found my release with Moby, why aren't they doing the same with each other?' Frustrated, he allowed himself a doggish shrug and returned to play. 'I tried; I hope they figure it out soon. All that attraction in the air is hard to handle, I sure hope Sheila stays around for a while.'

With that, he turned as Jonathan tossed his favorite ball in the air. He leapt and bounced it off his nose. He grinned as it sailed over the rock wall. It was good to be home.


	17. A Pain in the Neck

"Heavens, who would have thought one human being alone could create such a ruckus," Martha muttered as the family helped her return the master cabin back to its normal state. Wadding up the used sheets with a fury, she handed the bundle to Candi, and then shaking out a fresh bottom sheet, she tossed it up in the air and Carolyn grabbed it on the other side of the bed. "Candi," Martha instructed, "you take those down to the laundry room and you Jonathan, pick up the Monopoly game and put it back in the game closet."

Silently the two women quickly finished making the bed, and with a definite "There!" Martha gathered up the rest of the linens and laundry and headed down the stairs.

Looking around the newly straightened room, Carolyn allowed herself a happy giggle, and stretched out her arms and fell backwards onto the bed with a solid flop. "Ah, back in my own bed at last," she said happily. "And it suits you well," the Captain offered, sitting down on the edge of the bed, intrigued as she stretched out, so very pleased at last to have her room back to herself. Startled, she started to sit. "Belay that Madam, you've entertained and nursed that mewling mackerel for a long while, you've earned some time to relax."

"As have you Captain," she said reaching over to prop a pillow under her head looking up at him, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the suggestive closeness, but intrigued at the same time. "You were a gracious, albeit unwilling host as well." Rolling over on her side so she could face him better, they watched each other quietly for a moment. "Captain, I wond. . ." she stopped in mid-word, her face suddenly going quite red. "Are you well Mrs. Muir?" he said concerned. "I, uh, yes, yes I'm fine, it's just I was going to ask you a question, and I realized it might sound . . . a bit suggestive."

"Far be it from me to refuse to answer a lady's question, especially a suggestive one," he said leaning closer to her. "Please go ahead. What intrigues you in such an interesting manner?" "Well," she paused trying to decide if in fact she were willing to continue, but swallowing, she started again. "Well, it's just this was your bedroom . . ." "It still is Madam," he said with a glint in his eye. "Yes. I, yes I know that, but what I wondered is if I have taken over your side of the bed, or did you sleep on the other side?"

Taking some pity on her, he stood and walked out into the middle of the room. "You know," he said to the air, "I'm not entirely sure I recall. It has been quite some time since I actually occupied this bed. And never with anyone quite so lovely." Looking out the corner of his eye, he noticed her blush again with satisfaction. "So you had 'guests' in your day?" she questioned.

Turning again to face her, he let a moment of quiet settle around them, "No M'dear," he said willing her to look at him, "such things were not acceptable for a community leader in a small town. Now ask me about other locations, and well, I would have to admit . . . " "Never mind," Carolyn said, with a cutting tone she regretted the minute it left her lips. "Do not be concerned," she heard him say, as she lay there, eyes closed, "If we are discussing this room, this place. . . this bed," he continued with a meaningful pause, "there is only one woman I've ever truly wanted to be in my home, in this bed with me." She felt herself flushing again, this time the cause far from embarrassment. Refusing still to meet his eyes, she thought carefully before continuing, "It's important, isn't it to know what you truly want and to say it aloud, don't you believe? For both of us I think, that may be harder to admit to, even more than loneliness?"

"I admit I hoped one day, I would be able to share that truth with someone," he said, looking over at her with undisguised longing. "And I admit," she started. "Don't admit it," he said, "one day, perhaps it'll be something that requires no effort to explain. Until then," he sighed aloud, "enjoy your peace, your bed and the rest you so fully deserve."

To her immense frustration, she felt him disappear from sight, but in truth, she now knew, he could not disappear from her heart. Rolling over, she gave her pillow a fierce series of punches before dropping off to a disturbed rest. "Hum," she vaguely heard Martha from the hallway a moment later, "Jonathan, Candi, looks like your Mother is taking a well deserved break; let's give her some peace and quiet. Downstairs both of you!"


	18. Strictly Relative

"Really Captain, he's not my type." "Truly Madam? I had assumed that you had a certain fascination for seafaring men?" "No, not in general," she said, trying to hide a smile. "Actually I have always found military men, especially those in command quite appealing. You know, Generals, Commanders . . ." Looking around her, and finally recognizing her tease, "Captains, perhaps?" he offered, his grin matching her own.

"Now, there you go – you've captured my taste exactly," she laughed. "And if I hoped to capture something more?" She turned, slightly surprised, but undaunted. Tilting her head to one side, with an engaging expression, she finally spoke. "Well, then Captain, I'd suggest we discuss it over a glass of Madeira sometime."

Opening the gate for her to pass through, he nodded, "This Tuesday Mrs. Muir?" "Delighted Captain, on Tuesday then." He stood whistling, watching her continue up the path and as expected, she turned and offered a dazzling smile before heading inside. "'Til Tuesday M'dear," he said softly disappearing in the breeze, smiling as he went.


	19. Chowderhead

". . . It is not, as the current phrase has it, one of my hang-ups. You were saying?"

Turning quickly so her smile wasn't on obvious display, Carolyn walked over to the window, and looked out over the yard. "I was saying," she said thoughtfully, "or rather I would have said that any man who could create this lovely home, and take such care in each detail, would always have to be warm, caring and full of generosity." Turning back toward him, she took a step nearer, "And even if we had never met, I always would have thought fondly of you, just based upon what I found here at Gull Cottage."

"And now," he said looking gently into her eyes, "now that you know the house, and its owner?" "Claymore?" she asked with a teasing grin. "That scuttling scab on the face of humanity!" he began to bluster. "Oh Captain," she laughed, "not for a single second would I think of Claymore as the true master of Gull Cottage. Surely you know that, don't you?" Looking down for a moment, he tugged his ear as his expression cleared, and finally he looked up with a gentle smile.

"I thank you for that," he said quietly, "but I hope you know that for me, it is you who make Gull Cottage a home." Feeling more than a bit flustered she smiled a bit shyly, nodded, and handing him the last can of Yankee Skipper Chowder, she gave him a final look, full of all the words they might never say aloud, and headed downstairs.


	20. It's a Gift

"Valuable? It's a mere trifle Mrs. Muir."

"A $500 trifle."

"It wasn't in 1847 – it only cost me a dollar."

Smiling together, he placed the scrimshaw back in her hand. "I only wish my current state allowed for something more than depending upon a small boy to help me share something with you."

Turning the carving over and back again, she let her fingers trail across its surface gently. Still looking down, she asked, "I wonder, if it didn't involve a small boy, one I still need to talk to by the way, what you would have been willing to share?"

"Willing to Madam? Do not confuse what I would be willing to share, to place in your trust versus what I MAY be able to share. I assure you, they are two very different things, but not altogether unconnected, I confess."

She looked up, a warm, gentle look in her eyes that never left his face, as she moved to place the scrimshaw on the mantle. "Indeed," she smiled, "and if they were ever mine to possess, it would be infinitely more valuable than this treasure you made mine today. Do you ever suppose it might be something you could share with me?"

"There is always hope Mrs. Muir, don't you agree?"


	21. Buried on Page One

'So much for the outside world calling me,' Carolyn silently came to her decision as she watched the Captain standing there, looking quietly at her, waiting for her to respond to Mark's offer. 'I've never been loved, never been needed so much by anyone,' she mused, 'certainly not by anyone living. It seems real isn't a matter of living or not, it's the love, the need that matters most, that makes things real'.

"I've decided to work at home," she told Mark firmly, but the whole time she watched the beaming Captain. Grinning at his reaction, anticipating his sunny response to her wanting first and foremost to be there with him at Gull College, she assured Mark, "Oh and don't worry about the weather."

As the erstwhile publisher drove away, she turned, "And now, you said you haven't depended upon any woman at any time . . . but I think you were about to say, 'Until now', weren't you?" She watched, eyes twinkling, as he began to continue his blustering, but looking down ceased suddenly. "Until now . . . M'dear, it would be useless to pretend otherwise, don't you think?" he said, waiting expectantly, breathlessly, if such a thing were possible in his current state.

Holding out the football to him, she tilted her head and with a serious expression, totally at odds with the merry expression in her eyes, she finally smiled. "So if we are to be a family, to admit we need one another, won't be truly happy without one another, perhaps you won't mind helping me pick up after our children?"

His stunned look, followed by a breathtaking smile told her that he entirely understood her unvoiced admission of love. Clearing his throat, he tucked the ball under one arm, "Of course, and I believe our small ones left quite a few things around the corner there, behind the Monkey Puzzle tree."

"Are you luring me into a private, personal moment Daniel Gregg?" "Only if you're fortunate Carolyn Muir." And with a hopeful smile, she followed him into the dark shadows behind their tree.


	22. Make Me a Match

"I have to pay $5 and 82 cents more!" "Oh…" the Captain added in mock sympathy, "perhaps by next year the property lines may shrink, or perhaps fall into the sea, and you'd owe less, would that be acceptable?"

"I oh, uh. . ." Claymore stammered, "OH you are just taunting me aren't you? WELL, you don't understand at all!" he said, stomping his feet, and then turned up the path, got into his car and drove away as fast as the decrepit car allowed.

"Captain!" Carolyn chided, "It isn't fair to tease him like that, you know his pocket book is what is closest to his heart!" "He deserves to suffer, any one who can't value what he has in front of him, should be taught a lesson," the Captain said with

"Yet isn't it true, you have something, or shall I say, someone of value right in front of you – and you haven't accepted that yet Daniel, have you?" Carolyn said quietly, never looking away from his eyes.

"My dear Mrs. Muir," he said with a distinct growl in his voice, "never confuse what I may say aloud with an inability to recognize a true, delicate, entrancing treasure when I see it." He waited for her response, but smiled as she suddenly looked down with a distinct blush coloring her cheek. "Or rather Carolyn, I suspect I should have said, I entirely welcome and accept that treasure if it, or . . ." he paused again, "or rather if she wishes me to do so?"

"I do Captain, I do indeed," she said, eyes shining as she met his gaze. "Well then," he said, looking around the yard, "perhaps this calls for a private walk and a personal conversation M'dear?" Smiling, she moved beside him, and together they walked through the gate and continued down the path to the beach where their private conversation was kept safe behind the roar of the breaking waves and the call of the gulls.


	23. Jonathan Tells It Like It Was

Taking a moment to blow a sweaty bit of hair off her forehead, she stopped in the children's doorway while shifting the books in her arms as she smiled to herself. As proud as she was of Jonathan's accomplishments, she had to admit she was even more pleased by the actions of the person ('can a ghost be a person too?' she wondered) who made this happy ending possible.

As if he were called by her musings ('if he can, let's hope he cannot hear them all,' she thought) he appeared at her side. "Well Captain, all's well that ends well," she smiled, placing the books on top of the chest in the hallway. "Let's say all's well that ends," he offered, with a bit of regret in his voice, and she noticed, in his expression. "Aren't you happy the way things turned out?" she asked, knowing what he was probably feeling at the moment. "Oh Mrs. Muir, it was not without price" he said, staring off into an unseen past. "I'm afraid Jonathan will never again see me in the same infallible light." A twinkle appeared in her eye as she looked up at him, "Perhaps he sees you in a better light. A more human light?" He began to understand her meaning, but still continued to dispute with her." I human? Mrs. Muir, as a writer, I would think you would choose your words carefullier."

Looking up into his eyes, she realized all the things she might say, the words she wouldn't say, and instead tried to put all of them into her simple, "I do."

They stood quietly together letting all the meanings of the feelings unsaid surface between them. They paused, listening to the children chatter on for a bit. Without another word, they waited for the moment to end, or perhaps become awkward. To their mutual surprise, that moment did not arrive. With a look of understanding or perhaps inspiration, Carolyn turned toward the stairs leading to the attic. 'So, Captain, I realized that with all the competition events, we missed our Tuesday glass of Madeira. Would it be wrong to share that moment now?"

"Never. I welcome that moment with you now, today and always Mrs. Muir, shall I lead the way?" "Now, today and always Captain," she smiled as they walked up the stairs together.


	24. Medicine Ball

"And Mom don't forget the brandy?" "The what?" she said surprised. "The brandy, that'll put a keel under it." Jonathan finished with a big smile. "Brandy? Well, no brandy for either of you. Jonathan, head upstairs after you finish that cookie and start your homework." Grabbing Candi by the elbow, "Not you miss! You head up and crawl into your bed. I'll be up with the thermometer and an aspirin in a second."

"Aw Mom! I'm fi . . ." she stopped interrupted by another huge sneeze. "Mom really I'm fine!" "Nice try, I'll see you upstairs."

"It's good to see that at least one female in this house know how to behave appropriately when she is ill. You should learn from her Mrs. Muir," the Captain chided, appearing next to her, Candi's steps sounding loudly as she slowly made her way upstairs.

"So, let me guess, after your success in curing me, you think we all should automatically follow your suggestions? Or are they commands to your crew?" Carolyn said with narrowed eyes. He was grateful he had caught the challenging tone to her comments, especially since he was nearly ready to congratulate her on her fine and growing common sense. Looking away for a moment, and scratching his ear, he gave himself a needed moment to retrench his thinking. Sitting down beside her, he finally turned with a gentle look, "Indeed not, just thankful to see both of you taking care of yourselves, even if you need a prompting from time to time."

Grinning widely, Carolyn stood to put the cookies into the jar, "Nice recovery," she said, peeking over her shoulder to catch his reaction. Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise they both laughed. As she sat back down, she leaned toward him, "So this also answers my other question, so it's not just Madeira then Captain? I admit I always assumed it couldn't be the only drink you enjoyed?" "Madeira Madam is something civilized, a drink fit for ladies, but brandy, like rum is far more a man's drink." "Odd, you never asked my preference," Carolyn mused, "you just automatically assumed which I would choose. That's hardly fair I think."

"You would have preferred a snifter of brandy then?" he said with curiosity, wondering where she was heading with this discussion. Surely not another diatribe about women's rights and equality, he hoped. "To tell you the truth Captain," she answered, "I would have agreed to any drink, brandy or otherwise if that is what sent me off into my dream. All these days later, I find it still haunts me." "So you said, but you still haven't shared the details with me. I have to wonder which haunts you? The dream, or perhaps the man?" he asked, focusing on her blushing cheek.

As she slowly stood up, and walked to the door, he wondered if he had gone too far, been too forward, when she finally turned toward him, he knew. Her eyes sparkling, and a look of determination on her face, she cleared her throat, "Both, I think," she said firmly. "And for that conversation Daniel Gregg, I expect an excellent cognac. There are times when to be a woman, you need to leave being a lady behind. Tonight perhaps?"

"Wheelhouse once the small ones are asleep then?" he asked. "It's a date," she said, heading upstairs before her common sense made her change her mind. "Tonight then," he said softly to himself, "time to leave the dreaming behind, at last."


	25. Son of the Curse

"Of course not, and I never will," Carolyn said with assurance.

"Never is a very long time Madam. Once you didn't believe in ghosts, remember?" he smiled gently at her, but was entirely unprepared for the challenging look that immediately crossed her face.

"Well, since you want to bring up things I used to believe – shall we talk about the belief that you cannot touch, cannot make contact with living people?" she said, eyes narrowed with a disturbing glint in her expression that made him tempted to disappear.

His eyes widened in confusion, "Contact? Living people?" "Yes, living people! I assume we can count Claymore as one?" "Debatable M'dear. But what prompts this question?" he continued, beginning to understand. "Do you need me to quote? Very well," with that she reached out toward him, "_Claymore, take my hand_!"

Looking down, quite abashed, he tugged his ear, looking away from her accusing expression. "Ah yes, THAT," he said, eyes darting from place to place, not certain how to proceed. "Go on," Carolyn prompted with disarming calmness. "Yes, well, I wasn't actually aware you had witnessed that moment today," he offered, clearing his throat, "but clearly you noticed that I had, perhaps left out a few details about my ghostly limitations."

"Clearly," she offered, finding herself enjoying the exchange more than she expected. "Don't let me stop you; I'm fascinated to hear these '_**new'**_ details."

"It's late," he stalled, "perhaps we should continue this conversation for another day?" "Belay that mister!" Carolyn stood with her best Captainish voice and stance. "It's nearly been a year now that we've been together in this house. You have courted me, wooed me and led me to believe that was all I could expect, all I could hope for from you. Explain yourself."

Seeing his extreme discomfort, she took a breath, and shaking her head she stepped to his side. "I'm sorry. I should have said please, could you explain this to me?" In that quiet moment, he stopped and looked softly into her shining green eyes. "M'dear," he paused, considering his words, "it is not as if the ability to touch would make me suddenly human, suddenly alive again. It's not as if this is the same as human touch," he said. "It is not forbidden, but shall we say deeply discouraged," he paused stretching out his hand, almost able to take her hand in his own. "You have no idea how much I have longed to 'share' this with you." Helping that miserable miser have an opportunity to rethink his priorities in life, well that is, no matter how distasteful to me, something considered right and appropriate. But you . . ." looking directly into her eyes, he let his hand fall away. "The longing, the desire to share even a simple touch with you is something with tremendous consequences. You could be lost. We both could."

Silently she stepped quite close to him, reaching out her hand. "I'm willing to take the risk, show me, please?" Shaking his head, he let every bit of his feelings, his emotion, his love for this woman slip out in a single word, "No." Unable to keeping looking as tears filled her eyes, he turned away, continuing to speak quietly. "There is nothing I would wish for more, but it isn't that simple. It is fully another way of communicating. I would be able to feel you, but I would also sense what you are thinking, or feeling too." "Then does it work both ways?" she asked unaware that she had kept her hand still stretching toward him. "I would be able to experience your sensations as well?"

Nodding he finally turned to face her. "I think I understand," she said softly, trying not to lose herself in his eyes. "We'd be caught up in a closeness we might not be able to stop, to separate?" Sadly, he nodded again. Slapping the wall in frustration, she looked back toward him, "This is so unfair. If it is that serious, that dangerous why wasn't it for Claymore? Wasn't he at risk?" "That mental minnow? Impossible," he grinned sadly, "First the connection isn't there. He is caught up in his own, very small world. It requires someone with an open heart and spirit to catch the full depth and breath of the exchange – the few times it has occurred it has always had consequences. If it were only a risk to myself, there is nothing I would long for more, no experience I would treasure more than being able to have that moment of connection with you, but I cannot, will not put you at risk M'dear."

Eyes shining, she looked up at him, "Very well, for now, but this discussion is not at an end Daniel Gregg. I'll see you tomorrow!" With a final look, eyes still shining with tears, she turned and walked downstairs. "I'm not going anywhere," he whispered to her as she left his sight.


	26. The Music Maker

"The song is lovely, and your poem is beautiful Captain." She sat passively, fingering her pearls, knowing all too well that he had written it as an apology. Perhaps it was a way to explain just what he felt, even if he was unwilling to make that connection with her, one that she now knew was possible. Wondering why she was not willing to look up at him, he bluffed, that the poem was "Just a piece of doggerel I wrote a long time ago, a very long time ago."

The Captain stood quietly, watching the family congratulate Tim on his new song, and a disappointed Claymore prepare to go. "Mr. Gregg," Tim called out, "It looks dry enough. Could you drop me close to my van?" "Well, I guess, but I'm not going to help you get that van off the beach!"

"Come along you lot," Martha called to the children. As the guests headed out the front door. "Time to get lunch on the table too." With a slight grumble, the kids followed her into the kitchen, leaving the Captain and Mrs. Muir alone in the parlor. She sat looking silently and thoughtfully at him, as if trying to find the courage, the words to say what she wanted to say. The Captain, stood wondering, worrying about what she was going to express, when with a sigh, she stood, smiled and left without a word.

"That's not the reaction I had hoped for," he mused to himself, "Yet, what else could I expect, truly?"

They passed each other throughout the day, politely, graciously, yet with out a word between them. He finally took to observing her invisibly, as the constant silence and intent looks were at last beginning to wear upon his peace of mind. 'Heavens, I merely hoped to show, to express my feelings, I cannot imagine what possesses her,' he thought as he watched her tuck the children in, and head back down stairs.

Stopping by Martha's door, she poked her head into the room, "I know it's been a long day Martha, but I'm going out for a breath of air. Just wanted you to know, in case the kids need anything." "Isn't that how all this started?" Martha called after her. "And how it's going to end, if I have anything to say about it," Carolyn muttered as she continued down the hallway.

He appeared beside her, as she knew he would. She turned to face the ocean, both hands leaning upon the railing. "So Captain, ready to deliver another weather report?" she asked, continuing to look out toward the sea. "Actually Madam, I had wanted, had hoped. . ." He was stopped, in fact stunned, as she spun around, threw her hands around his neck and placed a long, passionate kiss on his lips. She smiled as she felt his arms tighten around her, and draw her closer, as one kiss blurred into another. "So Daniel Gregg, didn't you tell me this could never happen" she whispered, snuggled again his chest. "Then you should have been less obvious, once I saw you were able to take Claymore's hand, no matter your fears of catastrophic events, I knew things would have to change between us." His eyes grew wide, as he smiled down in surprise, "And that's what has been on your mind all day?" he asked, reaching up and stroking her hair slowly, "I thought I had distressed you in some way." "That you did my Captain, I thought I'd go out of my mind waiting for you to say something, do something. I admit some things may have been better in the slower, Victorian era, but today as a woman of the 20th century, I had waited quite long enough and I wasn't prepared to wait any longer."

As he drew her close, she paused putting a finger on his oh so tangible lips, "about that poem being from 'long ago', do you want to correct anything now?" "Of course not," he said giving the finger a gentle kiss, "after this night, it is truly ancient history – don't you agree?" "I do," she whispered "now about the present?" "You are a brazen woman, Carolyn Muir, and while this moment is quite perfect. . ." I'd have said wonderful actually," she smiled resting her head on his shoulder. Kissing her head, he sighed, "Wonderful it is. But there are consequences you know. It's unavoidable." "So be it Captain," she smiled, "I'm ready."


	27. The Music Maker  an alternative ending

Alternative Ending – The Music Maker

_Mind you, I entirely prefer the original ending I wrote, BUT given how season two begins, I thought I should also craft an ATC that gives some idea about how the dynamic between Carolyn and her Captain changed so dramatically between the end of The Music Maker and the start of The Great Power Failure . _

"It was just something I wrote a VERY long time ago."

Her silent nod and vacant stare made him realize that his casual comment had been taken, to his surprise, at face value. He had expected her to roll her eyes and chide him for the clearly ludicrous comment, but instead she stared off without another word. Watching her silently for a minute longer he realized he had entirely run aground. With a frustrated sigh, he disappeared to the widows walk. "What an addle-pated fool" he muttered to himself. "So close, and when the two of us might finally talk, admit what is between us, I hide my heart like a scared school boy!" Pacing quickly back and forth he continued his diatribe, with an unceasing stream of self-recrimination.

His self-scolding however was mild compared to the thoughts running through the mind of Carolyn Muir who had dashed upstairs to her room to give vent to her feelings immediately upon his disappearance. Walking briskly across the floor, she muttered aloud, "How DARE he! He lies to me about his ability to touch, creates a beautiful poem and then LIES to my face that it was not written for me, and now he just disappears like a, a . . . AARGH!"

Hearing her outburst, he paused, tilting his head as he attempted to hear her words, but they had ceased and were replaced by the solid, almost furious clattering of her typewriter keys. 'Well, better them than me,' he thought, but he recognized the truth, he'd far rather fight with her than be left out here in the emotionless cold.

He would have been deeply disturbed, if he had seen what Carolyn was typing. It was a personal manifesto, a proclamation to herself, promising she'd cease her fervent, romantic imaginings. From this moment forward, she intended to put up a solid, unrelenting barrier between Captain Daniel Gregg and her heart. She'd be damned if she'd fall so deeply, only to be hurt again. Let him cajole, woo and charm, she was going to make sure he'd never work his way into her heart again.


End file.
